Mr Darcy is Secretly an Antiquarian
by Doubleplusgoodduckspeaker
Summary: "It's a virus—a drug that gets inside its victim's cyberbrain and controls their emotions—emotions triggered by their strongest memories. It takes the two most powerfully directional emotions and rewrites them as their exact opposite," Kaiba said, never breaking eye contact. "Essentially, it transforms hatred into love and love into hatred." Apocalypshipping: Marik x Seto x Ishizu.


Dark Marik x Kaiba x Ishizu. Cyberpunk AU in which Kaiba was never mind-crushed. In this story, Data Log numbers refer to the participant, phase number, and phase completion respectively.

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"Mr. Darcy is Secretly an Antiquarian"

* * *

"_Sometimes I'm terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants. The way it stops and starts." –Edgar Allen Poe_

* * *

The skyscrapers of Domino's city center hung in the air like tombstones, stark against the cloudless blue sky. Seto Kaiba was as punctual as ever, sidestepping the crowd of people heading into the Kaiba Corporation's main tower. He had a different destination planned for that day.

He arrived at the Precinct not long after and with a few whispered words and the flash of his own identification—they were one of Kaiba Corporation's most loyal customers and he knew they would refuse him nothing—he was taken through the main floor and into the holding cells beyond. There was only one man in the bank of rooms, seated on a bench with his back to the gate.

"Marik Ishtar," his escort said, giving a nod to the cell. "Got him for motor vehicle theft and vehicular manslaughter—head-on collision and the couple in the other car were dead on impact. We checked his cyberbrain implants and he was driving under the influence of a really powerful program, so there's that, too."

The officer turned to wait just beyond the cell block. "I'll give you a few minutes."

Kaiba waited for Marik to turn around; his skill at reading people always began with their eyes. You could lie with your body but it took true talent to lie with your eyes. You'd have to believe in it, and then it would stop becoming a lie at all, twisting back on itself into a kind of truth. One good look and he knew.

Marik was tall and lean, and looked comfortable inside the cell—he half-expected the prisoner to be just that, scared or angry or rude, but he was passively waiting, simply observing. It would be very convenient if the first prisoner he visited would be the one to accept his offer.

"You're familiar with Kaiba Corporation, I presume."

He nodded, still observing. It reminded Kaiba of a cat.

"I'm here with an offer from the Human Enhancement Technologies Division—you essentially have two options. You can serve out your term in prison, or you can spend that time at Kaiba Corp, working with our researchers—"

"A test subject. You're really scraping the bottom of the barrel, aren't you?"

"You'll receive augments to your cyberbrain implants unlike anything available now; you'll be stronger, quicker—and you can use everything to your advantage as long as we get what we want out of you first. We'll even see that your charges get dropped." He slid his hands from his pockets, flexing them slowly. "Either that or you can go to prison. Your choice."

He could see it in his eyes. Marik Ishtar was his.

* * *

The lobby of Kaiba Corporation was flanked by two large plasma-screen televisions, set to a continuous stream of world news and current events, the marquee at the base of the screen looping news of war and conflict. The river of people threading in and out of the building paid it no mind. For them, it was simply business.

Seto Kaiba didn't use the main entrance. A separate elevator took him to one of the tower's middle floors, where he passed underneath a door marked with the name _Human Enhancement Technologies._ Here was the secondary division of Kaiba Corp, tasked not with materials like transport and artillery but instead with the body and mind. How computers and the Internet could impact and accelerate the mind, and how the human body could be pushed past its natural limits into something truly extraordinary. Much of the current research was Kaiba's own, but the division had been in operation for years.

And in Marik Ishtar they had found an ally, however unwilling of a participant he might be.

They had him sedated, a thin cord connecting at the base of his existing implant to the central computer dominating the room. Everything here was top of the line, government-grade equipment—after all, they were the ones commissioning this equipment as well. From that computer, Kaiba could see everything—much like the Internet was a web of information; he was presented with a mass of data, of impulses and signals. It was his job to make sense of what he saw.

While the other technicians and researchers in the room fussed with the hardware of Marik's implants, Kaiba dove into the web of his memories.

Marik was reckless; stealing a sports car and downloading a drug-program was evidence enough of that. What KaibaCorp demanded was competence and loyalty; sifting through the memories Kaiba found the evidence he was looking for.

He was in a gang, a street-fighter, and had illegally acquired his current implants somewhere along the way. Through his searches Kaiba continued to run across several other names, each accompanied by a powerful impulse. He was well-studied with that bond—he was looking at familial ties.

Kaiba closed down the program; this was only the first appointment, there would be plenty of time to map his mind until he knew it better than Marik himself. He had to first understand the map—the routes, pathways, impulses, and desires—before he could begin to change them.

* * *

**Kaiba Corporation: Human Enhancement Technologies Division**

**Data Log 1.1.1**

Preliminary assessment completed. The subject's blood type is B and he has a height and weight of 170cm and 55kg, respectively, although we expect the latter results to change with the implementation of our procedure.

The subject is healthy and physically fit for a male in his twenties, and shows few signs of aggression to the researchers or personnel entrusted with his care. A Local Net has been established around his chambers to ensure that during his cyberbrain updates, he will be unable to link any details of his procedures to others. So far, there have been no infractions and no attempts to contact any outside persons or members of his family. Further memory-diving should reveal more about those bonds and how they can be used to our advantage.

The subject appears distrustful of the staff. At first it was discovered he had been throwing away the vitamins that accompanied his meal, but after some coaxing, he usually complies. He asks many questions about the procedures and equipment used in the laboratory; it is still unknown if this behavior should be encouraged—whether he is truly curious or mining for information.

"What have you been doing to me? Don't think I can't tell." Marik curled his fingers into a fist and flexed the muscles of his forearm. He was trying to hide it well, but Kaiba had spent too much time observing him not to notice the cues. Marik kept looking down, at his arms and hands, testing them to make sure that he still had control over his own body.

It was a frightening thing, to lose control like that. "I don't want to be kept in the dark," he continued, narrowing his eyes.

Arriving early to work that day, Seto Kaiba had been the one to deliver his breakfast, KC-brand products from the convenience store inside the building. The supplemental vitamins that accompanied the meal were one of their lab's own inventions.

"We have several exercises to test you today," Kaiba said, completely ignoring him. "Measuring speed, strength, hand-eye coordination—"

"I knew it was you before you opened the door because of the sound of your footsteps," Marik began, combing his hands through his hair. It had grown even longer in the time since he had arrived. "I haven't been able to sleep for more than a few hours every day and yet I don't feel tired, but my arms and legs ache like I've been running for miles. What have you done? I deserve to know—"

"The mind and body are connected in many ways. You should have expected to see some changes by now."

Marik looked up from his empty plate. "Is it in my food?"

"It's in your head. Now stop wasting my time." Kaiba turned away, swallowing the yawn that threatened to bubble up from inside him. He had no implants, no extra enhancements beyond his own merit, and he wasn't about to give anyone the satisfaction of knowing that when he stayed up late or came in early, he _felt_ it.

The tests were thorough—reaction time, coordination and balance, speed, endurance. He was weighed and measured again; blood was taken for a white-blood-cell count, and at the end of the day his cumulative effort was condensed into a single printed page of data. He'd thought his time was worth more than that.

"You'll run them again, every day, until your scores match these," Kaiba said, motioning to a computer screen that displayed two lists of numbers in a chart, each line highlighted in red and blue.

"Whose scores are those?" Marik asked, leaning in towards the monitor.

For the first time, Kaiba looked genuinely satisfied. "They're mine."

* * *

**Kaiba Corporation: Human Enhancement Technologies Division**

**Data Log 1.1.2**

The first changes to be made are to the subject's diet and exercise regimen. The vitamins our laboratory perfected last quarter are already starting to take affect—increased muscular growth, cellular repair, eyesight and hearing—it is only the beginning.

He is no soldier yet. The next phase in his development goes back to the source—his mind. The key is in the subject's memory. Further testing will be required to determine how to proceed from here; but for now, the results look quite promising.

Saturday night dinner in the Kaiba household was quite the occasion. In the formal dining room, the three Kaibas were seated at a dark wooden table that cut the room in half like a knife. Seto Kaiba and his adoptive father Gozaburo took the chairs at each end and Mokuba was left with the middle, trying desperately not to fidget in the uncomfortable chairs. Drinks were poured, dinner was served, and they were left alone, the room now feeling uncomfortably large. They made for a charming family tableau.

"I received your lab notes on my desk today," Gozaburo began in-between bites of steak. The juice would occasionally drip down the corners of his mouth; he blotted it away with a napkin, the white cloth already turning pink in several places. "You promised me a timeline of two months, and I intend to hold you to that."

"We're beginning phase two this week," Kaiba said curtly, glancing quickly at his brother, who seemed to be doing his best to appear invisible. "The theory is solid and we've learned enough about the subject to begin our modifications."

"Tell me about it." It was an order.

"It's a virus—a drug that gets inside its victim's cyberbrain and controls their emotions—emotions that are triggered by their strongest memories. This virus takes the two most powerfully directional emotions and rewrites them as their exact opposite. Through this manipulation we hope to funnel the subject's actions into whatever course we choose for them." Kaiba looked across the table at Gozaburo, who had stabbed at a piece of meat with his fork. The juice oozed out, pinkish-red over the starkly white china. Usually he would have dismissed Mokuba by now, but this was different. He _wanted_ Mokuba to know what his brother was doing, to be aware of this procedure, and Kaiba knew exactly why. He stared at him coldly and said, never breaking eye contact, "Essentially, it transforms hatred into love and love into hatred."

"That's all I wanted to hear." Gozaburo laid down his knife and fork on the empty plate. His triumphant smile looked closer to a sneer.

Later that night, when the rest of the mansion was asleep, Kaiba heard a soft knock at the door before Mokuba let himself in. He was dressed in his pajamas and soft, thick slippers that he wore just because they let him sneak quietly around the house late at night.

"You should be sleeping," Kaiba said before turning back to his computer. The structure of the virus took up the main window; Marik's test results and a half-written email filled in the rest of the empty corners of the screen.

"So should you," Mokuba replied, kicking off his slippers and jumping onto the perfectly-made bed, rustling the sheets a little to make it more comfortable. "Gozaburo's up to his old tricks. That whole power-play at dinner… that was for my benefit, right?"

Kaiba typed a command and the screen went dark; he could see Mokuba's reflection in the monitor. Kaiba thought he looked young. "…"

After a moment, Mokuba sighed. "Well, if you're not going to talk, then I will. I want to get cyberbrain implants—"

"_No_." The effect was immediate; Kaiba had turned around in his chair and was staring intently at his brother. "I won't allow that to happen."

"Well, why not? Many kids my age have them. I have to work twice as hard—no, four times as much; because every tutor keeps expecting me to be _you_, and I just…it's hard to keep up. You don't understand," Mokuba said, gesturing vaguely at him. "You're…you."

"Just…you heard my work. Cyberbrain viruses are less common now, but at first they were everywhere. One strain left you catatonic, it just shut everything down. Another wipes your memory. I will not see anything like that happen to you, Mokuba…I just won't."

His expression became gentler. "At least, give it another year. When you legally become an adult, we'll both be free of Gozaburo's control. Then we can do whatever we want, okay?"

Mokuba grinned. "You _already_ do whatever you want, Seto. It'll be my turn—and I've already started programming it. I'm building a virtual theme park—if we create an interface with a person's cyberbrain, they can visit the park in virtual reality! Isn't that awesome?"

Mokuba's grin was infectious, and Kaiba began to show the barest hint of a smile as well. "What type of rides will there be?" His work was completely forgotten as Mokuba began talking about a huge roller coaster with cars that looked like dragons, arcing through the sky, just like flying. For a moment, he imagined just what it would feel like—the ramp up the lift hill and then…weightlessness. Soaring. He could almost see it when he closed his eyes.

* * *

**Kaiba Corporation: Human Enhancement Technologies Division**

**Data Log 1.2.1**

The procedure took place today. The virus was injected into the subject's cyberbrain, and despite a few brief fluctuations in his brainwave patterns, it seems to have been successfully accepted by its host. The subject is to remain in the testing room until he regains consciousness so that any immediate feedback or adjustments can occur.

There is no danger of the virus spreading through the Net—it can only be injected directly into its host, not uploaded or downloaded from the Internet. More notes will follow when the subject wakes up.

* * *

That evening Seto Kaiba was in the lab's break room, fussing with the coffee percolator, when the power suddenly cut off—the lights, the appliances, everything went dark. Kaiba waited a moment for the power to come back, or the backup generator to bring back the vital networks, but when he heard several panicked voices coming from the lab, he was out the door, moving as swiftly down the honeycombed hallways as he could.

In the distance he could make out the dim light of several cell phones used as makeshift flashlights. "Give me a status report," he said when he got to the crowd of researchers who had gathered in the hallway and one of the adjoining rooms. "What just happened?"

It took him a moment to realize just where they were—he could see into the next room from the wide-open door and in a building as secure as theirs that particular door was never left open. "Where is Marik Ishtar?"

"We think he caused the blackout," one of the researchers said, his face backlit by the light from his phone. The light cast grim shadows against the wall and in the dark, their equipment suddenly looked far more sinister. "He's gone. No one can find him."

"Search this floor, then the ground floor—he can't have made it far yet." In an instant Kaiba was on the move, heading to the staircase at the end of the hallway. It was the most likely route Marik would have taken. "Alert building security to close the tower—nobody leaves except for me."

He pulled open the door and vanished behind it, taking the stairs down as quickly as he could. Two floors down the stairwell lighting was back on, but he passed several more dark patches on his way down. If he was a betting man, he'd guess that by remaining linked in to the Local Net, Marik was able to systematically cut out the power using just his cyberbrain. The main question was why—he couldn't predict where he was going. There was no precedent for this.

He reached the tower's lobby, still relatively crowded for the evening, just in time to see a familiar silhouette passing through the closest doors. If anything, Marik's hair looked even more pronounced than usual.

Kaiba ran to the door, looking out onto the street beyond until he caught sight of Marik again. He was walking quickly, purposefully, to the bank of cars and bikes parked on the street around the building. He passed Kaiba's own car on his way to one particular motorcycle parked on the street beside a bike rack with a bold delivery logo painted on one side—Kaiba had just passed its owner, a man carrying a stack of pizza boxes—and before Kaiba could catch up to Marik he had jammed his stolen keys into the ignition, started the motorbike, and kicked away from the curb. Cursing under his breath, Kaiba ran to his own car to follow him.

He had to admit it to himself—he was letting Marik think he was getting away. There were several opportunities where he could have acted and he deliberately chose not to. He was curious—how much of this was truly Marik, and how much of it was the virus? Under the scrutiny of the lab assistants and even his own ever-watchful presence, Marik was always too guarded. He wanted to know what Marik would do when he thought no one was looking.

Eyes trained on Marik's motorcycle—his driving speed was leisurely, as if he had all the time he needed—Kaiba followed him away from the city center of Domino. The headlights cut through the darkness as the high-rise apartments turned to lower units and densely packed single-family homes. He pulled into the driveway of an unremarkable-looking home and quickly let himself in through the front door. Kaiba parked in front of the house next-door, rolled the windows down, and waited, deciding what to do next.

There were no clues about the owners of this particular house, but it struck Kaiba as he watched the front door close behind Marik that he'd seen this house before—in Marik's memory. When he was searching Marik's mind, he found places as well as names.

He was just getting tired of waiting when the door opened again and this time a woman ran outside, followed quickly by another man. Marik came last—at first Kaiba almost didn't recognize him, the look in his eyes was so different. Marik darted forward, grappling with the other man until they both fell over onto the ground.

"Marik, don't you recognize your own brother?"

The two continued to fight, Marik quickly taking control and landing punch after punch to his brother's face and body. Marik's memory provided Kaiba the name—Rishid. That meant that the woman was Ishizu, his sister. Rishid weakly tried to twist out of the way, but after the next hit to the jaw he stayed down.

"Marik, stop it!" Ishizu tried to pull him off, but he easily threw her aside.

Kaiba got out of the car. He'd seen enough. He reached Marik just in time, tackling him to the ground before he could land another hit. Pinning him to the ground, he reached for the cell phone he slipped into his pocket just in case. With the cables he brought it'd be the messiest hack he'd ever done, but he had to do something to get Marik to stop.

Marik tried to bat the phone away, to wrestle out of his hold but he couldn't win. Kaiba figured as much—for the moment, Marik wasn't strong enough to defeat him. It was a meager satisfaction on a night where everything else had gone wrong.

Program loaded, all he had to do was connect his cord to Marik's cyberbrain terminal. He'd noticed something was off ever since they'd fallen—the rage in his expression was starting to burn off, replaced by something more confused, like he'd finally just realized that Kaiba was even there. Pinned down securely by Kaiba's forearm on his chest, he glanced back and forth at his hands and then down his body, still continuing to betray him, before the rage muddled back in and he twisted his torso frantically to the side. It was just the opportunity Kaiba needed.

In the instant before the cable connected, their eyes met, Kaiba's alarmed expression matched by Marik's own. For the first time, he felt like he was looking at the original Marik, free from the control of the virus.

He looked down for the briefest moment, mumbling, "…but I hate you…" before the program took effect and he fell back again, unconscious.

Kaiba got up, finally noticing that Ishizu was staring at them. She was cradling Rishid's head in her lap—he looked awful; there'd be bruises and potentially even scarring— but when he came over to her, she didn't appear frightened at all. Perhaps it was a trait shared between the Ishtar siblings.

He cleared his throat. "I can explain."

* * *

**Kaiba Corporation: Human Enhancement Technologies Division**

**Data Log 1.2.2**

Subject has woken up in the safety of the lab and has not mentioned a word of the events the night that five floors of the Kaiba Corporation building lost power. The cause had been attributed to a system glitch independent of any singular division.

Physical training and testing has continued as normal, with considerable improvement in every field. Slight adjustments have been made to the subject's cyberbrain implants to attempt to better understand and control the virus existing inside him.

Subject appears to have returned to normal and shows few signs of aggression to the staff and research personnel. No one was injured during the night of the blackouts.

* * *

Seto Kaiba looked at the banner above the door, mouthing the words as he read. Domino Museum of Antiquities. Even the building looked like an antique; it was an old stone building, not steel and glass like the KC tower. Not wanting to be late, he opened the door and went inside.

"I'm glad to see you found us." Ishizu had been waiting for him. They had the gallery to themselves; the collection spread around glass-enclosed tables and hung on every wall. "Welcome to my Museum."

She guided him towards the first display—he leaned in to read the writing on the accompanying plaque. It showed the progression of information storage, from the earliest computers to the vintage disks and drives that he remembered. Beside it there was a grouping of old records and their original covers, and further down were photographs of old cars and older cameras.

"You like old things." It was a statement, not a question. She'd hardly be working here if she didn't.

"One of the things we have in common, then," Ishizu said.

He stopped, turning to look at her. "I don't need a cyberbrain. That's not the same thing as preferring your antiques to what I have now." Even now, he'd always been able to outperform any opponent, cyberbrain or not. He'd beat them all through sheer force of will—no other alternative was acceptable to him.

"It feels the same way though, doesn't it? It's the path society has chosen to follow, and you've been left behind. There should be a place for us here. Maybe a part of us is already here."

He noticed the _us_ yet still couldn't shake the feeling that she was mocking him. "I didn't come here to get lectured," he said, frowning. "I came because I promised I would. We isolated the part of the virus that caused his episode, and suppressed it for the moment. He won't come after you like that again."

"This cyberbrain virus, it…?"

"It reverses the emotions of love and hate. Things and people that he loved strongly, he now despises. The opposite is also true—strong feelings of hatred will transform as well."

"I see." They continued walking past an apothecary and a case filled with old books. "…Will I be able to see him in the future?"

"I don't think that's a good idea," he answered. "It could trigger another emergence of the virus. He tried to kill you and your brother, Ishizu. You should only see him again if it's safe; if it's no longer in his system."

"Promise me that you'll look out for him, then. Do you have a brother—do you understand what I am asking?"

In his recent work at Kaiba Corporation he had been thinking about Mokuba quite often. Suddenly, the strangest urge welled up inside him; to refuse her, to tell someone the truth. That if it was not Marik it would have been his own brother. For his to stay safe hers had to suffer, and he'd gladly make the choice again. Gozaburo was already hinting of a Subject 2 and they'd hardly begun introducing Marik to anything closely resembling combat yet.

He looked at her and squashed that urge until there was nothing left of it. "I understand."

* * *

**Kaiba Corporation: Human Enhancement Technologies Division**

**Data Log 1.3.1**

Subject remains mostly in a neutral state, but through carefully-controlled experiments we are slowly bringing the virus back out of its dormancy. During these periods his thought process is far more erratic, but often streamlined into specific targets—various members of the laboratory, his family, and other unknown persons.

The timeline to prep the subject for combat training has shrunk to one month, after which the remainder of his sentence will be served out in the field. We must completely control his emotions and actions by that time.

Seto Kaiba dove into Marik's memories one more time, wanting to confirm something that he had noticed recently. Where before, thoughts and phrases grouped around a variety of subjects, recently he had noticed a startling trend to focus on a single, individual target.

Marik was spending a large amount of time thinking about him.

He refused to let any of the assistants do this particular task, instead diving into his mind himself each time they needed something. Every memory provoked an emotional response—positive or negative, love or hate. His role now was to introduce subtle shifts to the virus, to have it focus solely on hate. Hate everything, but remain loyal to the cause. Those were the final pieces of the puzzle.

The following day, the printer spit out a piece of paper with two columns of neatly ordered numbers—his test results for that day. Kaiba stared at it, then up to Marik. "You tied my score," he said, staring at that paper like it really meant something, too absorbed in his own mind to notice Marik's reaction, the slight bend of a crooked, menacing smile, the way he tilted his head that made his hair appear to stick out much more than usual.

"Let me see the paper," Marik said, walking over to Kaiba so he could take the sheet of paper. In the moment when Kaiba was looking down at his hands, not at him, he reached out with both hands towards the paper and, instead, rammed his head down hard into Kaiba's. The headbutt knocked him down immediately and, free for the second time, Marik slipped away into the hive-like recesses of the building, taking the paper with him, his trophy. He'd decided it would make for good kindling.

When Kaiba came to the first thing he noticed was the headache. It overpowered nearly everything else with its blinding intensity, and there was the loudest ringing in his ears. That was the second thing he noticed—his ears weren't ringing. It was the sound of the building's fire alarm.

Now that he noticed it he could smell the smoke, the acrid smell of burnt plastic a little stronger.

Kaiba staggered to his feet, groaning, and the contents of the room swam in his vision before everything settled again. He stumbled into the hallway, heading in the direction where the smell was the strongest.

The smoke was billowing out from Marik's room; on the way there he had looked in to several other labs to find a mess of broken glass and shattered parts. Every monitor had cracks in the screen, spiderwebbing outwards and magnifying the destruction in their reflection. Kaiba continued onwards, worried that he had yet to come across a single person. Marik was still here—he could sense him.

He found Marik seated on the bed in his room facing the wall, his back pointed towards the gate. He breathed in the smoke-filled air deeply, releasing the breath out in one long go.

"You weren't supposed to get up," Marik said softly. "It would have been quite peaceful, like falling asleep."

He hadn't yet turned around, and a part of Kaiba didn't want him to. "Where are the others? What's happening?"

"I read all of your notes about me, every single one before I burned them." It was like he hadn't even heard Kaiba speak. "They saved me from going to prison for murder yet they want me to become a soldier? To kill for them, whoever they decide who lives or dies? I hate them," he said, whispering the last line like it was a secret.

"Did you hear me? _I hate them_!" He's shouting now, his voice hoarse from the smoke. "I'll hate them all, just like they wanted. But you—I'm still not decided about you. That's why I decided to let you come to me first."

Marik slowly got up from the bed, turning until he was facing Seto. He could see other effects of the virus, or even the vitamins—several veins bulged outwards including one underneath his right eye. Every now and then his tongue would brush along the bottom row of his teeth, and then he would scratch at his hair to make it even wilder than it already was—he'd never shown any behaviors like this before. Like any virus did, this one was changing, mutating, adapting to suit its host.

"I had finally reached your scores—it's quite an accomplishment. But I want to do better than tie the legendary Seto Kaiba—I want to beat you. Let's see who is really stronger—who really deserves to live!" Without any other introduction, he charged forward.

It was fast—he barely reacted in time, dodging backwards, Marik following with his fingers outstretched like claws. Their feet slipped over slivers of broken glass.

Marik ran at him and this time, Seto was ready, grabbing his stomach and flipping him over, his back slamming into the floor. Jagged edges of glass and plastic were everywhere; Marik fished for a big enough piece and sliced it savagely towards him, catching the fabric of his pants and tearing a gash several inches long across his leg. Seto kicked the glass out of his reach, the sharp corners leaving small pinpricks in his own hands.

The fighting had taken them into the first testing room. The patient's chair was ripped open in several places, the cables yanked out and scattered, trash and papers strewn everywhere. Seeing the cords got him thinking—when he stepped over the longest coil, Kaiba reached out for his arm and twisted sharply, forcing him down to the floor. He focused on the feet first, wrapping the cord several times around Marik's feet and knotting the ends of the cord tightly together. Marik's hands were next; he had just enough left to secure his arms with one cable left over. He plugged one end into the nearest working computer and got to work finding just the right virus he needed.

He'd warned Mokuba about this particular virus, a rarer, hard-to-find drug that was more common in the earlier days of cyberbrain implants. It was another classic that worked just fine.

It didn't take long before he was ready to go. He paused just inches from making the connection—Marik deserved at least a moment, though not an apology. He earned a good-bye.

Kaiba plugged in the cord and started counting the seconds.

This virus was very particular; it would only work when the connection was made. Depending on how many memories he wanted to erase, he would need more or less time. He settled for more.

When he finally unplugged the cable from its terminal, Marik's eyes fluttered open—they were more cloudy than murky, without any signs that he had been in this room before—and then closed again.

For a moment Kaiba turned to leave, stopping just before he reached the door. Sighing, he pulled out his own phone, dialing a number he barely knew. Then he turned to Marik, debating how best to get him down the stairs. In the distance, he could hear the shrill cry of an ambulance and the longer wail of a fire engine heading right for KC Tower. He took one last look around the room before picking Marik up by the legs and swinging him over one shoulder as best he could.

His last thought was that it was a shame no one got to see him win.

* * *

He met Ishizu on the street across from his separate entrance; professionals and the media were already swarming the main door. She was wearing the same sand-colored dress but there was something in her face that changed when he walked through the door. Her eyes lit up, her lips smiled. She gently took Marik from him.

"And it won't erase any more years? He truly won't remember?"

"I figured two years was more than enough time. Let me know if anything does happen, I have the vaccine to this particular virus in my possession. But when he wakes up, he won't remember anything about this."

"It's the best way."

She smiled tightly and nodded, and he left her to go back home to his own brother. Ishizu ran her fingers over Marik's face and hair; she checked his pulse and on a whim turned out the linings of his pockets. She found a bit of paper in one of them and held it up to the light to get a closer look.

**Kaiba Corporation: Human Enhancement Technologies Division**

**Data Log 2.1.1**

**The subject is**

The rest was burned beyond recognition, the paper already crumbling between her fingers. Ishizu released it and the wind carried the paper away, floating up into the sky until it disappeared completely from her sight.

* * *

The End.

* * *

Written for Round Eleven of Season Ten of Ryou VeRua's YGO Fanfiction Contest, challenge pairing Apocalypshipping: Dark Marik x Seto x Ishizu. Hokey science ftw, and I need to stop watching so much Ghost in the Shell. Thank you for reading and please review, I value and treasure each one.


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